Tarnished: Book 1
by Arishaa
Summary: Ronald's mother had desperately wanted a girl... Hermione's parents never wanted children... Harrison ran away from an abusive home at a young age... how will things change?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own the concept and characters of Harry Potter. No money is being made from this story. Thanks go to J.K. Rowling and her wonderful imagination for the Harry Potter universe._

* * *

**Prologue**

The first was born into a large family; one might say too large, and not exactly what you'd describe as normal. He grew up as the sixth child of seven; his five elder siblings all boys and his younger the only girl.

They lived together in a ramshackle little farmhouse that had been added to as the family grew, though not in any logical order and by no means were the extensions completed by a professional builder. As this particular family was magical, however, they hardly needed one and simply allowed their home to grow as necessary by way of their craft.

The boy's absent-minded father was the only bread-winner in the home and so perhaps could be excused for missing much of his children's lives; though he loved all of them he didn't have much time to spend with them. The mother might be forgiven for being disappointed in the birth of another son when she so desperately wanted a girl; becoming depressed enough that she foisted his care onto her other children and never truly bonded with him as she did with the others.

The eldest son had just started school and barely ever met his young sibling; the second-eldest might have been bitter about caring for the child in place of his parents, had he been that sort - but he wasn't and could be excused, perhaps, for forgetting the boy when he too went away to school and started living his own life. The third couldn't really understand the reasons behind the slight depression his mother suffered after the child's birth and reacted typically by copying her behaviour in ignoring him. The fourth and fifth sons, twins, grew up almost without realising he existed; until they discovered an unprotected target for the pranks they thought "funny". The girl-child, born almost a year after and the apple of her mother's eye, wasn't really interested in her next-eldest sibling; after all, the elder three were more interesting, and the twins were more fun.

Yes, they all might be excused, and forgiven - but it was cold comfort to Ronald Anius Weasley; who grew up unloved and uncared for.

* * *

The second was born to two very busy, boring, proper people; who had both studied dentistry at university for two different reasons, though the subject and career was hardly a passion for either of them and was soon left behind for other endeavours.

The father was an ambitious sort, using his marriage to further his business aspirations once his wife came into the inheritance of old money. He was very good at making that money grow, feeding it into the chain of medical practices he acquired, including the first dental clinic he'd been forced to work in.

The mother was not in any way interested in working, only completing her degree to gain the approval of a much disliked grandmother who believed in females being independent, in order to gain the inheritance she felt she deserved. She had chosen dentistry to annoy her sanctimonious father, with whom she'd never gotten along, who had thought the field beneath her. Well, it was, but she had the brains to do whatever she wanted, whether he approved or not. She was most careful in the choice of husband; for though she had no intention of working for money she did work hard for and craved the acknowledgement of her peers, enjoying an immaculate reputation among them cultivated by her charity work and had no intentions of that being ruined by the wrong sort of spouse.

They met when she was completing her internship in the same practice he worked as a junior dentist and became friends, soon discovering they had much to offer each other in a marriage. Indeed they fit very well together, he managing their finances and she their professional and personal reputations. Though neither found the love of their lives in the other they were, perhaps, too selfish to ever experience such a thing anyway and so were happy with their circumstances.

It was for this reason that they saw an unforeseen pregnancy as just another 'situation' that needed to be 'handled correctly'. It wouldn't be at all appropriate to terminate the pregnancy and in any case they should have at least one offspring, they acknowledged, as that was how things were done. So they hired a nanny to go with their cook and gardener and their lives went on mostly uninterrupted by the arrival of their new daughter.

The nanny was a squib who recognised the signs of a magical baby and was vastly unimpressed that a brat born of two muggles would be a part of a world she had been denied; becoming more and more bitter as the years went on and causing no end of heartache to her innocent charge. The gardener had no use for children, especially ones than might stomp all over his hard work - so the girl was only allowed in his domain when properly supervised. As for the cook, though he was an exuberant and loving man who developed a soft spot for his employer's daughter, he was also extremely busy and liked to partake in a little too much port than was strictly necessary or good for him. While some solace could occasionally be found for the girl in the warm kitchen there really was very little he could do for a small child.

She took to studying, in an effort to gain attention from her parents. While gaining the praise of her teachers however, this obtained her none of her parents affections and no friends. Still, she developed an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, and knew that when the time came, she would leave her unloving home behind with little regret.

And so, Hermione Madison Granger grew up neglected and friendless.

* * *

The third was born to two loving parents, and lived an almost idyllic life until he was the age of one and a half years, whereupon his parents were cruelly murdered and their murderer subsequently defeated when he tried to implement his murdering ways upon the young child. Taken – for his own protection, of course – to his only living blood relative and watched over by a squib who lived two streets away, the young boy settled into his new life.

Of course, no-one could really blame the watcher for being away visiting family at the time the great upheaval in the young boy's life occurred, especially considering she really only resided on Wisteria Walk for a few months out of that particular year, anyway.

It was really not her fault she hadn't noticed when a new family moved into the house, or that she didn't notice for over a year and a half; although it took only the course of one afternoon for her to gain all the information in the matter. Her neighbours were very obliging – they couldn't believe she had missed something so scandalous – and it was important for everyone to know the full story, after all.

How the husband had been reported for child abuse by the school. How the wife had left the area with her son in shame. How the young nephew had been put into the child protection system, a really nice orphanage not too far away. How, when the husband had been released on bail, he'd gone to the orphanage in a drunken rage and tried to kill the boy. How the child had run away from his uncle and the police had been unable to find him. Very sad; tragic really, they whispered in barely restrained glee.

After Arabella Figg had reported the situation, Albus Dumbledore attempted to find the child himself. When he couldn't, he decided to keep it quiet; it would be too dangerous if anyone – specifically, anyone who had supported the Dark Lord – found out that the young one was so vulnerable; all he could do was hope the boy came to rest in a safe and loving home. In the meantime, his agents would continue searching.

All the good intentions in the world didn't help Harrison Chase Potter, who grew up abused and afraid.

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoy the re-write of this "what if?" story; it was my first story and I'm looking forward to finishing it. Any constructive criticism is welcomed; I will be editing this myself, so please let me know if you spot any errors in spelling or grammar. Thanks! I have deliberately changed the middle names of the trio; please note that Ron's middle name is pronounced An-eye-us. Ok?_


	2. 1: Air Mail

_Disclaimer: I do not own the concept and characters of Harry Potter. No money is being made from this story. Thanks go to J.K. Rowling and her wonderful imagination for the Harry Potter universe._

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Air Mail**

Terenth was becoming rather annoyed. He usually didn't have that much of a hard lot in life; being an owl he was unbothered by human concepts such as _jobs_, and _school_, and _relationships_ (all of which he'd heard them complain about extensively); and as an owl owned by a school he didn't have to worry overmuch about maintaining a territory or hunting to feed. Yes, life as Hogwarts Post Owl was literally a charmed existence, one he was normally quite fond of. Usually the only real challenge any of the Hogwarts Owls faced was tracking down errant students to deliver them their letters when school term was about to begin; but really, they were the best and brightest of the Owl world so it was a challenge usually met with confident, speedy and competent success. Never before had Terenth, Owl No. 22 of Hogwarts School's Regiment of Sophisticated Postal Owls, failed so spectacularly.

Terenth had been up and down what he was sure constituted as most of London, in a crazy flight pattern which had taken him almost two weeks (especially as he was constantly returning to Hogwarts with undelivered letters), looking for one – count it, ONE – student, who forevermore would be referred to as "The Brat" (with capitals) by Terenth.

The first letter he'd tried to deliver to The Brat had been in the middle of an abandoned Muggle parking lot and, considering the time of day he'd arrived to deliver the letter (just past six in the morning), Terenth found it a most unusual place to find a ten-turning-eleven-year-old wizard-hatchling. He had wondered briefly at the location, but the letter had been precise, as usual: "…_Park #68; Turrundown Car Park_…"

When Terenth had arrived, however, the only thing he found was a pile of rather trashed cardboard boxes; no sign of a magical child needing his schooling letter. Terenth had been rather put out; this was the first time in his rather long and extensive career that he'd been too late to deliver a letter, there was no point of address at which to leave said letter, and no way to track the errant recipient. In a huff, he turned himself around and returned to sender.

After Terenth arrived in the Letter Room, he was immediately given another letter to deliver. The name on the envelope was the same, but the address was now different: _"Northern Bench, Serenade Park…_" apparently the only way for the magic of the castle to track the boy was while he slept; but such odd places! Nevertheless, Terenth was a determined owl, and set off again, this time sure that he'd arrive in time. No such luck. The bench was empty; the park devoid of life; the street was deserted; the whole block had exactly three humans living in it and none of them was a small boy child. Terenth gave an annoyed hoot and again returned to the castle, rather with the hope that there would be no follow-up letter.

Of course, this would have been too much to ask, wouldn't it? Terenth had, since then, visited most of London, seen every dive and stink-hole there was to see, visited the oddest of places (if he ever caught up to the child, he would have questioned him very closely about the fish market, even if the boy had no chance whatsoever of understanding him), given the child the much deserved title of "The Brat" (with capitals) and was absolutely FED UP.

_This is the last time_, he thought to himself in a huff. _Absolutely NO MORE! The castle can assign some other hapless bird, I need a rest; I'm exhausted… I'll retire if I have to!_ Terenth had almost arrived at his destination, "_…Under the back stairs; Warehouse 11; Warren St; London…_", and was still grumbling to himself about The Brat when he saw – much to his astonishment – the child he'd been trying to track down for the last two weeks. Terenth blinked; but his vision was impeccable, and he was sure he hadn't yet descended to the level of madness when hallucinations were prevalent. The child was still some flight time away, but Terenth could see him clearly in the pre-dawn light: wild, black hair; scrawny, undernourished body; rather dirty clothes; and seemingly wrapped in a tatty blanket, asleep. _Strange place to sleep..._ Terenth knew that humans were rather selective when it came to their sleeping conditions; something to this day he didn't understand.

Still, strange sleeping arrangements or not, this was the boy he'd exhausted himself to find. _Finally!_ Terenth flew toward him in triumph. _Ha! No-one keeps a Hogwarts Owl down! Owl #22 does it again!_

Terenth was still quite some distance away when he heard quite a loud noise; it sounded like a Muggle car alarm, although Terenth knew a ward alert when he heard it. The sharp noise interrupted his smooth flight as he jerked in surprise and it also woke The Brat, who looked around in fear. Terenth watched, unable to reach him in time, as the child spotted the human responsible for tripping his alarm and turned to flee. Two other humans (rather large and stupid-looking, in Terenth's humble opinion) blocked his escape, and all three started to close in on The Brat. Terenth felt a surge of anger; a Brat the child may be, but he was a future Hogwarts student, his duty to protect and guide as a Hogwarts Owl, and more importantly, he was _Terenth's_ Brat! He flew in to attack the eyes of one of the men, giving the child a chance to slip past him. Keeping the men busy while remaining uncaught himself; Terenth managed to occupy the large humans while the boy made his escape. Once he was gone, Terenth turned his flight once again, to Hogwarts.

The Brat was in trouble. That's why it had been so hard to find him. Hogwarts needed to send one of the wand-users on _this_ assignment. With renewed energy, Terenth doubled his speed. The sooner, the better, in his opinion; and this time there was nothing humble about it!

* * *

Harrison Chase Potter was about to turn eleven. One might expect such a milestone in a young persons' life to be met with much serious thought; especially if the subject matter regarded such things as model planes and remote control cars, or computer games, or perhaps soccer balls or other sporty pursuits if a young boy was interested in such things.

But young Harry had never had the chance to play sports; and though he knew of all the various electronic gizmos currently available to most other children these things were so far removed from his own life he gave no thought to them. Had he been expecting a gift, he would have preferred his next meal rather than a model plane.

In any case, his fast-approaching birthday was the last thing on Harry's mind at this moment; as he was currently preoccupied with his current task: running.

Harry had been on the move for just under three weeks; no bolt-hole he had cultivated was safe and no matter how far he descended into London's dive it wasn't far enough; he'd barley slept and eaten less. It had been a mistake to sleep at the warehouse; he knew it, but it didn't stop him from being exhausted enough to sleep there – anywhere – even though he knew how dangerous it was.

When his ward alarms had gone off he'd woken immediately, sleep forgotten in an instant – a handy skill to have with the life he'd had to live – readjusted the violin case strung across his body, shoved his blanket into his small backpack, shouldered it and turned to run. Of course, he'd almost run right into a Hunter, who had looked livid (and Harry really couldn't blame him; he'd managed to avoid them for over three years), and quickly turned to flee in the other direction, only to realise he'd been boxed in.

Nothing new there, he'd been almost caught so many times he'd lost count and in this _exact_ situation seven times before.

What _was_ new was the owl. He'd certainly never been saved by an owl before; he didn't allow his own familiar to interfere in his problems for fear of her being hurt and he didn't know anyone else who owned an owl, especially someone who would be so protective of him that their familiar would take on that role as well. Finally managing to give the three men chasing him the slip Harry decided to shake off the puzzle of the protective fowl; he needed both food and sleep desperately. The boy chewed thoughtfully on his lip as he considered the last few undiscovered safe places he had left. He'd been reluctant to use any of them for fear of them being found and rendered useless, but things were getting desperate. Deciding on a destination, he set off.

_First,_ he thought, _to rectify the food dilemma_. Harry had, luckily, a few pounds on him he'd earned from busking a few weeks ago which he hadn't yet lost. He'd been so busy moving, keeping one step ahead; he hadn't time or opportunity to stop for anything, even food. He didn't have time to steal anything or go dumpster diving, which left buying it. He quickly headed into a small corner store, splurged on some hot meat along with some cheese, a small carton of milk, bread and a large container of cold water and was on the move again inside five minutes; stuffing his provisions inside the small backpack that held his thin blanket. Harry knew how to do things quickly and unobtrusively; it was something he'd had to learn very young.

He moved quickly but purposefully along the footpath which was just starting to fill with people on their way to work. He blended in very well, even in his rather dirty clothes. He hadn't had a chance to clean them the last two weeks; it was usually something he made sure to do, because it helped him blend in better.

Finally Harry made it to his destination: the public library. He slipped inside the warm, welcoming building and made it to the dark corner in the back where he would be able to eat and spend his day without anyone seeing him. There was a small hole he could slip into, made by the ill-fitting shelves to the wall and a study desk. Once crouched inside it, Harry set his alarm wards as usual. These he used so often if barely took any thought or energy anymore. He decided to take some time to put up a simple illusion as well, though not as practised he was still quite capable and knew it would hold as long as the alarm ward remained active. Finally secure, Harry proceeded to make a little nest with his blanket and backpack and then started to devour his food. After he'd eaten a good amount and packed away the leftovers, he slipped into an exhausted sleep…

* * *

Harry woke, once again, to his proximity wards going crazy. They were set to be tripped by someone looking for him. Harry quickly silenced the alarm, shoved his blanket into his bag and crouched behind the shelving. He was ready to move at a moment's notice; he would wait for whoever it was to pass him then slip out behind them. Then _whoever it was_ came into his line of vision, and Harry had to stifle his gasp.

A _giant_ of a man was standing on the other side of the shelves, moving through the library with surprising grace for one of his size. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard; but as he got closer Harry could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles.

He passed Harry's hiding hole – Harry got ready to move – but then paused, almost as though he could smell his prey (which, Harry had to admit with a cringe, was quite possible; and he wished he'd taken the time to wash in the bathroom when he'd had the chance). The enormous shadow turned towards the shelves, Harry held his breath, wondering what was going on and who was this person? He'd never seen him before. Then a giant hand came down from the other side of the desk and lifted him out by the scruff of his neck without any effort at all – not really a hard thing to do, conceded Harry, considering the extreme differences in their sizes, but irritating just the same – and he was set down in front of the stranger.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile (1). Kindness radiated from the man, despite his alarming size and choice of dress. He wore an enormous black overcoat – one of the kinds that would have lots of pockets, Harry thought – and odd, old-fashioned-looking clothes underneath it. Some instinct from deep within Harry told him that this man was _safe_; and more than that, would do anything to protect him. Could this be the mysterious owner of the owl?

"Well, there yeh are, Harry! Haven't seen you since you were a baby. Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but I can see yer mum in there too – she had green eyes just like yours!"

Harry listened to this entire speech, stunned. One thing, however, had stood out like a neon sign to his mind; and he just had to question it…

"You knew my parents?"

* * *

Hagrid looked down at the boy in front of him in relief and joy. When the castle had told the headmaster that a new student was in trouble and needed help, almost all of the professors had volunteered to fetch the child; but when Hagrid had discovered it was Harry, he had demanded to go. He hadn't seen the headmaster that startled in years, he thought with a quick smile; but Albus had been quite agreeable – and also gave him another job to complete at the same time.

_I owe it to her, to look out for her son._ Hagrid thought of Lily fondly. Although Lily had been quite popular in her last few years at Hogwarts, when she had first arrived she had been painfully shy and quiet, and unable to make any friends – other than Hagrid. He himself had been the same, only finding comfort in the creatures that were just as misunderstood as he was. After Dumbledore had given him a job, he had felt it was his duty to look out for the students that had been the same as him, and be their friend. And so he had done so, for over fifty years; been the only friend to countless young, shy, unpopular, scared students that had gone through Hogwarts. Lily had a special place in his heart; she had been so kind, helping others even when they had been cruel to her. He had known that she was destined for great things – he'd cried like a proud father when she had married the man she loved and been so happy; was overjoyed in the birth of her son (who had won his heart the moment the child had looked at him); and absolutely devastated when she had died and her son gone to those… _people_.

Still, that was over; now Harry was right in front of him, ready to enter the world he'd been forced to leave behind, and Hagrid – while sad he'd missed Harry growing up – was quite looking forward to the next seven years. He studied the child carefully.

He was quite small and very skinny; especially for his age. He looked more like he was nine than eleven. The clothes he wore fit rather loosely, as though they had been purchased with room to grow, and seemed a little old and dirty, but not really something out of the ordinary for a Muggle boy of Harry's age to wear. Hagrid's first impression, that Harry looked like his father, James, was supported by the wild black hair that grew in uncontrolled curls all over the boy's head, the general shape of his face, and his nose and ears were exactly the same. He didn't seem to need the glasses James did, as he was looking right at Hagrid without anything to obscure the intense green eyes Lily had passed down to him; and as Hagrid examined him, other parts of Lily seemed to jump out at him as well. He saw the beautiful girl in the boy's cheekbones and stubborn chin; and in the strong spirit that seemed to radiate from him. Lily had been like that, Hagrid remembered; with that air of responsibility and kindness – everything about her, and her son, told others around them they were trustworthy. And then Hagrid saw the feature that came from neither James or Lily, but rather their murderer – a very thin scar of his forehead which was shaped like a bolt of lightning – still visible after all this time.

Hagrid felt a moment of anger against the foul creature that had done such wrong to their world, then shook himself out of his thoughts, to answer the question Harry had asked.

"'Course I knew yer mum and dad! Nicer people yeh couldn't find! And I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Key and Grounds at Hogwarts. Speaking of, I'm supposed to deliver this…"

And he held out a letter.

* * *

Harry took the letter from the giant hand, and read the address:

"_Mr. H Potter_

_Reference #798LOR, Non-Fiction Section __(2)_

_Public Library_

_Chelsea Old Town Hall, King's Rd; London" __(3)_

Harry blinked, and looked at the shelves he'd been sleeping behind. The address on the letter matched exactly. _OK, that's more than a little creepy_, he decided. Harry opened the letter. Skipping over the heading at the top, he read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at_

_Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

Harry smiled; he hadn't truly believed someone in his circumstances would be accepted to a magical school… a magical school – but if Hagrid worked there, and he knew Harry's parents –

"…but then, if you knew them, my mum and dad must have been wizards…"

"'Course they were, Harry! You didn't think they were muggles, did ya?"

"Well I… was told they died in a car crash. I just thought that meant they were – "

"Car crash? Who told you that? Ne'er mind, I can guess. Ruddy Dursleys." Hagrid looked outraged and concerned all at once; quite a feat as far as Harry was concerned. "Well… I don' think I'm the right person to tell yeh this, Harry… but you've got to know…"

And so the story was told. Harry could well believe that some wizards go bad, for as much as some tried to believe themselves superior, wizards were human and Harry had seen enough of both the good and bad of human nature to know that there was evil inside the best of people, and a little seed of goodness in the worst – even if they were able to resist the temptation to let these parts of themselves show, it was there.

Harry didn't really understand the fear people had of speaking the name "_Voldemort_", especially considering what it meant; what self-respecting dark lord would want to be known as "_Flight of Death_", anyway? He supposed the terror of his first reign might be compared to what it had been like when Adolf Hitler was making his bid on world domination; but even so, muggles didn't fear the name "_Adolf Hitler_" after he died, did they? He supposed he'd have to research the matter.

As the story progressed, Harry realised just how terrified people must have been; even just recounting this story for him, Hagrid seemed scared and though he didn't really know Hagrid well, it didn't seem to be in his nature.

_Dumbledore_. Harry remembered seeing that name in the heading he'd skipped over in the letter. He was the headmaster at Hogwarts and if he remembered correctly, he'd also defeated Grindelwald in 1945 (something that struck Harry as quite a coincidence, as he remembered his previous thoughts about Hitler, and resolved some serious research was warranted), discovered the twelve uses of dragon's blood and done quite a bit of work in the field of alchemy – what was his partners name again? – oh well, it didn't matter now. _Add the only one Voldemort was ever afraid of to that list_, Harry thought.

Then came the part about his parents – and the part about himself – and he remembered again the old nightmare, of the terrible pain in his forehead, the cold green light and the cruel laughter… _Voldemort_.

Harry thought about everything Hagrid had told him. Having believed his Aunt – even as biased against him and his mother as she had been – when she told him that her sister and her brother-in-law had perished in a car accident, he'd simply assumed they hadn't been magical, and himself to be muggle-born. Now he knew the truth: Voldemort had murdered them… and one day, he was going to pay for it.

* * *

After Hagrid had finished talking they had settled down to sleep, Hagrid on one of the sofas and Harry curled up in a huge armchair; since the library was now closed he didn't need to worry about the staff finding him and throwing him out. Even though he'd slept most of the day the boy was still tired and had no trouble falling asleep again. Harry woke with the dawn; finished what was left of his food (he'd thought about leaving some for Hagrid, but then realised that Hagrid would be going home later today and would eat there, so Harry wasn't worried about him going hungry), and had a quick wash in the bathroom. He rinsed out his clothes and dried them as best as possible under the hand dryer, too. By the time he'd returned to the sofas, Hagrid was paying an owl some money for a paper; reminding Harry of the owl that had saved him – had it only been yesterday?

"Hagrid, yesterday I saw an owl… it helped me out of a tight spot. Is it yours?"

"Nah. School owl. Terenth, his name is; poor beast, been lookin' fer you fer the longest time… very protective of students, our school owls are. Nothin' like them in all the world!" Hagrid was obviously very proud. "Anyway, must be off; got to take ye shoppin' yet!"

And so the two set off; through the streets of London that were only just stirring, talking all the way – about Gringotts and the money that Harry's parents left him; and the fact that Hagrid would love a dragon; and about the Ministry of Magic; and the other Very Important Hogwarts Business Hagrid had to see to (some of the information Harry knew already, but a lot of it was new) – and into a tiny, grubby, run-down looking pub called _The Leaky Cauldron_. Harry knew from experience that this pub couldn't be seen by just anybody; in fact it had several very strong Muggle-repelling charms on it. As they passed through the almost empty pub, Harry remembered the first time he'd ever come across this particular establishment.

* * *

When Harry had first run away from the fury of Vernon Dursley, he'd spent a few months adopted by a street gang known as the Lost Boys who survived through trickery and thievery and simply blending in. Harry had become quite proficient in all these and in return tutored others that wanted to learn in reading and writing and arithmetic. The gang had been scattered by Hunters one night a few months after Harry had joined up with them and the only friend he'd made in the group, a rather vague but kind girl the gang called Sky (because her head was always in the clouds), had been taken so Harry had decided to go it alone.

He'd retreated to his first sanctuary: a library, practically living in the building (even sleeping inside some nights) until he'd come to the notice of Miss Nancy Presul(4), the Librarian. She was an elderly lady who lived with her sister Kelly, a musician who taught music, and both understood the life of a child running from abuse. There were times that Harry lived with them, learning from them both – Miss Nancy helping fill in his secondary education and Miss Kelly advancing his musical studies – until he risked both them and himself by staying and then he moved on. They were happy for him to come back whenever he needed, and they filled a part of his life that had been empty until now: people he could ask advice of, who had had life experience they could share and he could learn from.

Just over two years had passed since Harry had left Privet Drive behind when he started having problems. Learning from Miss Kelly had been heaven and Harry had quickly become quite an advanced student. His teacher had started him learning the violin almost as soon as she'd gotten her hands on him and he took to it like a duck to water. Harry began playing on street corners to earn money and was able to generate quite a steady income because he was extremely talented. Another thing Miss Kelly had him doing inside a year of them meeting was tutoring her youngest students in piano. He related well to them and they enjoyed him as a teacher. When Harry was about eight and a half, one of his student's mothers heard him playing his violin one day and offered him some work, which he accepted.

He sometimes wondered, looking back, at the twists of fate – for it was this one thing which seemed to be so good, that had brought his life tumbling down like a house of cards. Harry and his new employer worked many upscale restaurants and one of the patrons, a man by the name of Nicholas Stafford, had been very impressed with Harry's performance. After discovering Harry's unstable circumstances, he tried to force Harry into attending his very exclusive boarding school focused on musical studies. Harry had found his behaviour to be, well – rather rude, actually, and declined.

Harry wasn't surprised to find out that Nicholas Stafford was the kind of man who not only knew about Hunters, but also knew how to contact them and take out a retrieval contract on Harry. Hunters were an illegal racket that scoured the streets, rounding up kids for sale to the highest bidder. Some children were sold back to their parents if they wanted them and could afford it, but most were simply sold on like so much merchandise. There were an infinite number of ways to profit from human flesh, and Hunters had no problem exploiting them all. They were the worst sort of scum Harry had ever encountered, and he did not enjoy being the focus of them.

Unfortunately, the Hunters weren't the only ones to suddenly have Harry on their radar. The other rather hapless group stumbled around London without much of a clue; though despite their inadequacies, Harry found them to be rather tenacious and had to evade them more often than he did Hunters. It was one day he was hiding from Hunters that he discovered more about this second group, as well as the first time he came into contact with a name for the mysterious _instinct_ and _ability_ that had guided him his whole life. The first time he'd become actually aware of manipulating this inner energy was the first time he'd run afoul of the Hunters with the Lost Boys, and he'd used the intervening time to learn to control and harness it when necessary, as well as become aware through meditation the pathways it travelled in his body. He'd never had a name for it before, until that day when he was eight-and-a-half (_yes_, the six months were important!) and he hid in a filthy, smelly ally across from a rather dingy pub.

Keeping an eye out for the professional dirt bags, Harry nevertheless – being the observant person he was – noticed the strange way people behaved when walking past the bizarre looking door. The shop front was old and unkempt, not at all fitting in with the well-preserved enterprises it was neighbour to. In fact, it seemed to be something taken right out of the sixteen hundreds; as though someone had plucked it out of time and plonked it in the wrong place. Not to mention the way most people simply didn't seem to even _notice_ it was there. Harry was intrigued, the more he noticed the pub the more his _instinct_ seemed to pull him toward it. _It should be an ok place to hide, anyway,_ Harry had thought, quickly crossing the street and slipping inside. He found a small, dark corner to hide in and spent the day observing the strange people and the strange environment.

It was the day that began Harry's education in _magic_.

* * *

Harry shook off his thoughts and started to move. He first made sure to check the identities of the current customers of the pub; the last time he'd been inside was a few weeks ago when the Hunters started making a persistent nuisance of themselves and he'd thought he could hide in the Ally until the heat died down, but found instead a rather heated confrontation going on between two groups. Harry had recognised a few individuals on each side of the hostilities as those that also made his life somewhat difficult by searching for him quite consistently. He'd decided chancing the Hunters was a better deal and left. Thankfully, there were none present today, so he began making his way unobtrusively through the dingy atmosphere.

In the meantime, Hagrid was greeted by the barman by name – something Harry found to be most amusing – and quickly declined a drink when he was offered one; stating he had Hogwarts business to take care of. He'd looked around for Harry in that moment, but… he seemed to be missing. Harry had, in fact, automatically moved through the pub to the back door; not wanting anyone to notice him particularly, as he had learned that that was something to be avoided and standing with someone of Hagrid's size and girth was something that was bound to get him noticed. Hagrid blinked, located Harry, and moved after him. Tom – the name of the barman – noticed the small boy and smiled. "Hogwarts student, Hagrid?"

"O' course, Tom!" Hagrid beamed; and then both noticed a rather peculiar man enter the almost-deserted pub.

"Good morning, Professor!" Tom greeted with enthusiasm. He then went about getting the man a drink.

"Harry, that's Professor Quirrell; he'll be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year," Hagrid explained, motioning to the strangely-dressed wizard. Harry looked at the man with mild disbelief. He was stuttering rather spectacularly to Tom as he paid for his drink. Hagrid sighed. "Never been the same since he took off right out of school lookin' fer first-hand experience…"

Harry and Hagrid left the bar behind, and entered Diagon Alley. Harry looked around. It hadn't really changed since the last time he'd seen it; one could spend a year there and still find new things around every corner. They made their way swiftly to Gringotts, and Harry once again read the warning written above the door as he passed through:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed _

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there (1)_

Harry and Hagrid moved quickly through the bank to a free goblin; Hagrid handing over both Harry's key – _I wonder where that's been all this time?_ Harry thought – and a letter that had the goblin frowning and calling over a goblin to help them; name of Griphook. Harry wondered what other Hogwarts Business Hagrid was on, but was content to simply observe. One hair-raising cart ride later (which Harry rather enjoyed, actually; and Hagrid obviously didn't) and they had arrived at a vault that Harry had never seen before. When Griphook opened it, Harry was stunned. All this was his? He swallowed and quickly filled a bag with coins; and then they were back in the cart and picking up a rather small, grubby package from vault seven hundred and thirteen. After they had finished in the bank, standing on the stairs outside, Hagrid and Harry parted ways; Hagrid to have a quick drink in the Leaky Cauldron and Harry to buy his uniform from _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_. Before heading there, though, Harry slipped back into the bank and changed a few Galleons into Muggle pounds for later.

Satisfied, Harry set off purposefully to the Robe shop and entered. Smiling at the witch who was obviously in charge, he quickly found himself situated on a stool in the back of the shop, a robe over his Muggle clothes being fitted to him.

Standing on a stool next to him was another boy, with a pale, pointed face (1), sharp grey eyes, platinum-blond hair and a holier-than-thou air about him; he was also, Harry was rather annoyed to note, about two inches taller than Harry, which aided him in staring down his nose at the smaller boy. He was also somewhat familiar; he was sure he'd seen him somewhere before… but before he could think of it, the boy spoke.

"Going to Hogwarts, too?" he drawled in a voice that he apparently believed made him seem important.

_Well, obviously_, Harry thought; but he pinned a bright smile to his face and nodded, playing the shy little boy.

"I'm going to look at brooms after this; do you play Quidditch at all?"

Harry raised an internal eyebrow. _No, and I'm sure you don't either, unless there's a junior, junior league no-one else knows about…_ Harry shook his head silently.

"Know what house you'll be in yet? I'm sure I'll be in Slytherin; it's by far the best. All my family has been, going back generations," he bragged.

Harry didn't think that would particularly qualify him. He shrugged.

"Don't say much, do you?" the boy appeared to be torn between sneering at him and laughing.

Harry, who had long learned how to control such responses, allowed his cheeks to flush slightly in a blush and looked down.

Amusement won out. The boy snickered, then his eyes widened as he noticed something outside of the window. It was Hagrid, who was holding two ice-creams.

"Would you look at him?"

Harry didn't think Hagrid would impress this boy very much, but he said, quietly, "That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts; he's the gamekeeper and grounds man."

The boy blinked at him, then quirked a smile. "So you do speak. I've heard about him. A servant isn't he? Why's he with you? Where are your parents?"

Harry bit his lip, keeping up his chosen façade. "They're dead," he said softly.

"Oh, sorry," he said, though Harry noticed he didn't seem very sorry at all; it was more like an automatic response. Harry found what he said next very interesting as well; it was said almost as though he'd been programmed with a certain reaction. "But they were magical, weren't they? I don't think they should let anyone else in, do you? Our world would be so much better without it being contaminated by the other kind – "

He was interrupted by Madam Malkin telling Harry – loudly and with a pointed glare at the boy – that his robes were finished. Harry walked out of the shop in a very thoughtful mood; this was the first time he'd actually spoken to another magical person his age, and he could only hope that not all of them were so prejudiced.

The rest of Harry's shopping didn't take them too long, considering everything they'd had to get; the last item on the agenda was a wand. Hagrid insisted that the best place was _Ollivanders_, and so they made their way there. Hagrid dropped Harry off at the wand shop looking a little shifty, claiming he had one quick errand to run; and so Harry entered _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_ alone.

Buying his wand was an interesting experience in a day full of interesting experiences. Harry found Ollivander himself to be slightly eerie; and Harry was a little worried about the fact he ended up with the brother wand of Voldemort himself. Ollivander had said Harry was destined for this wand, which in turn meant that Voldemort had been destined for his own wand; and that meant that their destinies were most probably tied together in a way Harry didn't really like to consider… and there was that book he'd read in wand lore, about brother wands… yes, Harry would have to be careful.

There had been something else strange about the experience as well; Harry was very well aware of the pathways his magic took in his body and though he'd never handled a wand before he was able to feel the way his magic connected to it in the moment they bonded. It had been faint, an echoing sense of reaching out to something _else_… it had lasted but a moment, leaving Harry puzzled and alarmed because what if it was reaching out to its brother? Maybe he'd be better off without a wand. He would have to think more on this later.

He was torn from his thoughts by Hagrid, who seemed to appear from no-where right in front of him (and considering his size, that said a lot about the depths of Harry's thought patterns) with a bright smile on his face, a curious-looking ball of black fuzz held gently in one large hand, and an animal travel basket fashioned out of wicker in the other.

"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Hagrid said, and handed the fuzz ball to him. Harry took it from him in shock; today was his birthday? He'd never known when it was; the Dursley family had never told him and he'd never found a record of his birth. And Hagrid had gotten him a birthday present… Harry was astonished to feel tears spring to his eyes at the actions of this kind man; he'd never before received a birthday present that he could remember…

Hagrid was looking a little subdued, and hurried to explain, "I was gonna' get yer an owl, but I dunno, this little'un just seemed right…" he trailed off looking rather hopeful. Harry looked down at the small, black kitten cradled against his chest in awe; she had piercing green eyes just like his own, and her coat was as black as his own unruly locks. She was _beautiful_…

"She's perfect, Hagrid. I love her," he whispered. He looked up the large man. "Thank you," he said intently.

Hagrid beamed at him; and quickly told him not to mention it. He sounded close to tears himself.

* * *

Harry had managed to talk Hagrid out of going into the house he claimed as his home, but only just. He'd played being just a bit awkward about Hagrid's size and his "guardians" delicate sensibilities, and Hagrid had understood right away. Harry felt a bit wretched about manipulating the man – someone he'd be proud to call his friend, and Harry didn't meet many of those – but his instincts told Harry it was better that no-one at his new school found out about the truth of his "home" life.

Harry climbed the front steps of the modest two-story building and (after he was sure Hagrid had left) knocked on the door.

The home of Miss Kelly and Nancy Presul – sister spinsters in their autumn years – had always been a place Harry had been welcomed ever since they'd met. Miss Nancy was a librarian who was incredibly smart, but had grown up in the era that said women were only appreciated for their looks, instead of their brains. She spoke three languages fluently, another four well enough to get by, knew enough of a dozen others to gain an understanding of their culture and history and was quite proficient in mathematics. It seemed if you could learn if from a book, Miss Nancy had an understanding of it. She had first noticed Harry after she had watched him reading his way through almost half of the shelves under her purview. It had been a delicate thing, trusting Miss Nancy, but something – that same instinct that had already saved his life a dozen times or more – had told him that she was safe, and trustworthy. One day she had brought him home to meet her sister, the musical Miss Kelly; who was just as much a genius in her own way, able to play piano, harp and violin as well as knowing and able to teach the basics of brass and wind instruments. Learning from them had been a gift in itself; Harry had been able to catch up on much of his schooling and quickly became an advanced student in music. He had, at first, refused to stay in their home at all; and he still moved around on a regular basis, because he knew their financial situation was tight at best. He also knew that they would love to have adopted him; had they the means and Harry the inclination to trust 'the system' (which, it shouldn't need to be said, he did not). Still, when Hagrid had asked Harry where 'home' was, this was the first place he thought of.

The door was opened, and Harry looked up into the kind face of Miss Kelly. Harry couldn't help but remember the first time he'd ever met them; he'd been just seven years old and recently parted from the street gang he'd run with because of Hunters. He'd also just had his first experience with what he'd later learn was 'accidental' magic and been scouring the shelves of the library Miss Nancy worked in to find an answer. Ideas such as ESP and various psychic abilities didn't account for his apparent capability to manifest and manipulate some form of energy; the best thing he found was meditation techniques that eventually allowed him to experiment with it and refine his control of it.

Meanwhile, the librarian Miss Nancy Presul had watched the small boy reading his way through the shelves and absorbing the knowledge they contained in amazement; and suspecting from personal experience how he was likely living and not having much faith in the system herself, she decided to help him as much as possible. Slowly but surely, she began to gain his trust – smiling at him when they crossed paths, encouraging him to ask questions, tutoring him in subjects he found interesting that she knew about and inviting him to join in the language classes she ran in exchange for help around the library. This progressed to long conversations about her past and all the places she and her sister had managed to travel to, living out of suitcases and working as they went to pay their way.

The day she invited him for dinner and he finally met her sister, Kelly, she knew little Harry would become a fixture in their lives. She couldn't have been happier.

Harry himself had at first been unsure about trusting Miss Nancy, but he'd be forever grateful that he listened to his _instinct_ telling him that it was safe. When he had met Miss Kelly and he found out she was a music teacher, he'd thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Music had been one of the only good things Harry had ever experienced in the Dursley household; he'd sorely missed it in his life on the streets, with no way to learn more except theory from books in the library which were mostly beginner books, nothing advanced. That first night Miss Kelly had allowed him to play on her piano and though he'd been unsure at first – it had been over a year since he'd last practised, after all – he soon became confident in his abilities once more.

When he'd been invited back the next day, Harry was ecstatic. Then Miss Nancy had offered to put him up for the night – with a look in her eyes that said _I know exactly where you're planning to sleep tonight, so don't think about trying to hoodwink _me_, mister_ – Harry had again accepted. That night he'd been snuggled up on the couch in pure bliss.

Not long after that, the small attic room at the top of the sister's semi-detached home had been cleaned out and fixed into a bedroom for him. Harry's life soon centred around the two ladies; spending days with Miss Nancy in the library helping and learning, or helping Miss Kelly at home. He had music lessons every day and was improving in leaps and bounds; she quickly started teaching a second instrument – he was extremely talented with the violin and was soon tutoring younger students to generate more income for the home.

So Harry made his third family…

Harry was pulled out of his memories when Miss Kelly smiled widely at him and pulled him into a warm hug. He allowed himself to soak up the feelings of home and comfort she gave him; letting her ground him after his three weeks of running and the fantastical world he'd just come from. She gave the trunk sitting on her porch a funny look, but helped him get it inside and then pulled him through to the kitchen, where she was obviously cooking dinner. Harry immediately started to help her; he never let them simply give him something, he'd always earned his keep and she had long learned not to try to dissuade him.

Miss Nancy arrived home just as they were finishing, and she gave a surprised cry at seeing Harry and also pulled him into a hug. Once they were sitting around the dinner table, Miss Kelly questioned her student on the trunk.

Harry debated with himself on what to tell them; on the one hand, he didn't want to lie and he rather thought they would believe him; but on the other, he knew the stance the Wizarding world took regarding Muggles and didn't really want the sisters anywhere near anything that might hurt them – unfortunately, he knew the Wizarding world fell into that category, even more so now that he knew the truth about himself.

Sighing, he explained that apparently his parents had been somewhat rich; and had left him some money and pre-paid for a very exclusive boarding school.

"The people in charge of my inheritance somehow managed to track me down, and my first semester starts this September," he said. "If I went, I'd be away from September to mid-June. It should be safe there, no Hunters, for one thing. The only thing that worries me is they might try to force me to go back to Aunt Petunia," he finished.

Miss Nancy looked extremely sceptical, and Harry knew he'd have to explain more when she pointed out, "Harry, what would really be the point in risking it? You're well ahead of the curriculum in any case, so unless there's another reason…" and she looked at him shrewdly.

Harry had to smile. He could never get away with anything under Miss Nancy's watchful eye; even though she respected his privacy when he didn't want to tell them something, she never let him lie about it.

"There is something else… I was just worried about telling you…" Harry went on to explain about the Wizarding world, that he had known about it for some time but had been unsure whether or not they would admit him to one, and that he'd recently found out that his parents were magical.

The kitchen was silent. Both sisters found the fantastical story very hard to believe, but Harry was not the sort of person to lie about something like this. It was too… ridiculous, in the scheme of things. When Harry demonstrated his power by conjuring a flower for Miss Kelly and a colourful bird for Miss Nancy, they had to admit that it was real.

"Well, I suppose this is something that we can't teach you," Miss Nancy said with regret. She suddenly shook herself, "goodness, listen to me! It's not like we're sending you off to war!"

Harry bit his lip. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ he thought – ignoring the sudden thought that struck him that that was a rather ridiculous saying – and said, "well, actually…"

The sisters looked at him in alarm. "What, Harry?" Miss Kelly asked.

Harry sighed; how to explain?

"I found out today that my parents were murdered by an evil wizard. He calls himself _Voldemort_," Harry ignored Miss Nancy's raised eyebrow, knowing her reaction would be somewhat the same as his own, "and he decided that everyone that came from a non-magical family had impure blood, and should be, well, exterminated."

"Sounds like Hitler," Miss Nancy mused. She sighed, "I apologise for interrupting; go on, Harry."

"He gathered followers and started to wage a war of terror on the Wizarding world. One man was able to stand up to him, and he gathered followers as well to combat them. My parents were among them. Voldemort targeted them personally. They went into hiding, but it obviously didn't work. He murdered them and then he tried to kill me. For some reason the death magic he used didn't work on me, and he was torn from his body and left as only a spirit. It's all been quiet ever since then, apparently, but I have a feeling that he'll be back. And he'll probably want to come after me again, for revenge if nothing else," Harry explained the rest of the story, "though I don't see what he has to be mad about. It was own stupid fault," the reflection was somewhat childish, he knew, but he had had a _long_ day.

Obviously Miss Nancy could tell, but she still had one question: "Are you going?"

Harry looked at them somewhat sadly; he knew that whatever was left of his childhood was only possible because of them and now he would be leaving them behind. "Yes. It's my parents' world, where they came from, where they wanted me to grow up, even though it didn't happen. And I have a feeling that Voldemort will come after me whether I join the magical world or not; I'd rather be ready for him," Harry said firmly.

Besides, in everything Hagrid had told him, there had been no mention of Padfoot and Moony. Harry had no idea what their real names were, but he had very clear memories of them and Hagrid would have mentioned, surely, that two others had died the same night? What had happened to them? Were they dead? And if they weren't, where had they gone and why had they never come for Harry? Why didn't they look after him? Harry needed to find out.

Miss Kelly looked at her sister; then said, "that's that then, I suppose. But I expect lots of letters, alright?"

Harry grinned, "of course. At least once a month, probably more. I promise!" and then he yawned spectacularly.

"Alright, enough is enough. We'll talk more about this school in the morning. In the meantime, young man," Miss Nancy looked at him sternly, and pointed to the stairs, "_bed_. Now," she finished.

Obeying the order easily, because he was very tired, Harry gathered all his belongings and headed up to his room.

He quickly ferried his trunk and new pet up the stairs; placing the trunk at the end of the second-hand, but comfortable, bed; and the cat carrier on a spare shelf of the bookcase. The black kitten immediately curled up on the pillow of the bed, stretching her tiny frame over as much of it as possible, and dropped into sleep. Harry grinned, looking around the small attic room that he'd been gifted with not long after he'd met the two sisters.

It held an old single bed, a second-hand wardrobe, a music stand and the bookcase. It was all the sisters could scrounge up for him, but he was thankful for it. They had such big hearts; would give of themselves without any thought of the reward – or cost. Harry felt fiercely protective of them, they had looked out for him for years and Harry was determined that one day, he'd return the favour; make their lives easier.

Harry wasn't naïve in any way, he knew that the magical world would have its own problems and would possibly be harder to live in than the Muggle world – especially considering all the magical people he'd been dodging lately who seemed _very_ interested in finding him. At least now he knew why: this whole boy-who-lived silliness. Still, it would be a good place to disappear to for most of the next seven years and he should be relatively safe at a boarding school. Harry smiled as Hedwig, his snowy white owl who was also his first familiar, swooped in through the window to land on her perch that sat on his bookcase. She nested in a big tree outside most of the time, but often came inside to spend time with him or just to say hello. He gave her an owl treat and stroked her feathers gently and knew that he would find some things in the magical world that would make it worth the risk.

As he readied for bed, he thought about everything he'd learned today. Harry had gathered from everything that Hagrid had told him that he was somewhat famous among his magical brethren. Knowing what kind of things famous people went through in the Muggle world and suspecting it wouldn't be much different in the magical one, this made Harry somewhat uneasy; he had been around enough to know that at the first opportunity to turn on him people would be lining up to do so – it had once been said that what people loved more than a hero was to see a hero fail (5) – and Harry wasn't particularly looking forward to the consequences when he didn't measure up to the image he knew people would already have of him.

Knowing he needed to calm his mind from the hectic day, Harry picked up his violin and walked to the music stand that was positioned next to the small window. There was no music there, but for this Harry didn't need any. He ran the smooth wood of the violin underneath his fingers, the tactile sensation bringing forth the memory of the first time he'd touched it at eight years old. He'd been living with the sisters for about a year and to celebrate the two sisters decided to have a special dinner, after which they each presented Harry with a gift: Miss Nancy a treasured book, and Miss Kelly the violin she had had since she herself was a child. Harry knew each item had been gifted from their mother, the last and only things they had left from the woman they had both adored. More than the fact they were well-loved, Harry knew the sisters were telling that he was loved, too – and a part of their family.

Harry breathed deeply and smiled, then put the instrument into playing position and began to play. A soothing melody spilled into the room, the instrument warm under his touch, his mind free to glide with the improvised notes, releasing his emotions and relaxing him completely. When he was finished, he put the violin back into its case and fell onto the bed, slipping off into a deep, cleansing sleep.

* * *

Harry spent the month before leaving for Hogwarts planning for the time he would be away and picking up his life again. Thankfully, there had been no more sign of Hunters, the slimy bunch having been put off his scent by his immersion into Diagon Alley for a day. Miss Nancy insisted that he keep up his _Muggle_ education (she obviously found the word amusing, and relished using it), so he spent a lot of time with her in her library. Miss Kelly was adamant that he not neglect his musical studies, and so a fair amount of time was taken up with practising and organising for him to take some more advanced lessons with him; and also organising for someone else to tutor his students.

After his trouble with Nicholas Stafford, Harry had become a lot more careful of where he played. Luckily, one day when he'd been playing on a busy street corner for money, he'd met Lucy. She was an E-flat Bass player and had formed a group of buskers that not only watched each other's backs; they also worked the restaurant and club circuit as a group. They had, apparently, been looking for a violinist for a while to round out their group, and had invited Harry to join. He'd been a little wary at first; and after explaining (a somewhat edited version) what happened to him the last time he'd tried working in that environment, agreed to join on a temporary basis until he was comfortable and sure it was safe for him.

That had been almost two years ago and now Harry was a permanent member of the group. He loved playing with them; their practices were lots of fun and the other musicians were all kind people who had made music their whole lives, even though it wasn't such a good living monetary-wise, they were all very happy; and Harry had been contented to be one of them. Still, he contacted Lucy to tell her he was leaving the group and also gave up his daily rounds on street corners, deciding to play it safe for now.

He also, in the time he had before school started, made some changes to his Muggle and Wizarding accounts. He transferred a good chunk of his inheritance into the pitiful vault he had set up to allow him to owl order, as it was tied to his Muggle account and hired someone to manage the money and invest it for him while he was away, supervised by a Goblin accountant. A small income from the account was also organised for the sisters.

He bought a cage for Hedwig so they would blend in and introduced her to his birthday present – he'd named the little black kitten Pasht, after Bastet the Egyptian protector Goddess. The memory of it still made him smile – Hedwig had been uncertain, at first; obviously offended at the thought of her master replacing her with a new familiar. Harry had watched as the feline had won the owl's heart, and now Hedwig watched out for the small ball of fluff as though she'd hatched the animal herself.

Harry also spent some time at the _Depository of Knowledge_ – the Wizarding library – looking up anything and everything he could about Voldemort. He'd only ever used the library for practical knowledge before, being very cautious not to spend too much time hanging around Wizarding establishments and not being very interested in Wizarding history before now; Harry worked quickly to repair the gap in his knowledge. He found quite a bit on the insane megalomaniac and his first rise to power.

He was startled and quite unamused to find information on himself, as well (most of it inaccurate).

Still, he found out that the followers of Voldemort were called _Death Eaters_ and their descriptions matched that of the second group of magic-users that had begun following him around in the last year or so. Harry was quite glad his _instinct_ had kept him away from them.

In any case, by the time it came for him to leave, Harry found himself prepared. He was uncertain what he would find once he again belonged to the world of his parents, but he knew he was as ready as he could be to face it.

* * *

The night before the train was due to depart Harry was packed, he'd checked his school list twice, his own list three times, had Hedwig's new cage and Pasht's carry basket ready for the animals to be tucked safely away in the morning… he was as ready as he could be. Now… how to get there?

Harry pondered the problem for a few minutes, looking at all the angles. While a taxi would be the most convenient and certainly the safest, would the driver allow animals to be transported as well? The bus would pose the same problem with a lot more hassle and he didn't want to bother the sisters. Well, that left magical means. While it was easy enough to transport himself, Harry had never had so much luggage before, and he'd never transported living passengers. Then there was the arrival point, if it was crowded… perhaps it was best to go right now. He could transport his trunk and hide it somewhere, then… well; maybe he would risk a taxi. He could only ask.

Decision made, Harry walked downstairs to the phone and, leaving some money on the phone stand to pay for the call, dialled in the number of the nearest taxi service. Luckily they did allow animals to be transported; so Harry arranged for a pick up early the next morning. Taking a last look at everything and going over his mental list one last time, Harry nodded to himself in satisfaction, set his personal wards with a timed alarm to wake him up (as well as an extra ward-line around the house, you know, _just in case_…) and eventually curled up in his attic bed to sleep.

* * *

Once again, Harry woke to the sound of his wards going off, only this time it was the gentle chiming of his wake-up alert. Harry quickly and efficiently used the bathroom, dressed and transported his belongings down the stairs of the sisters' home; leaving them by the front door. After a hurried breakfast, he said goodbye to Miss Nancy and Miss Kelly – both were suspiciously bright-eyed – and left in his arranged taxi.

Once he arrived at King's Cross, he located a trolley, and – with the drivers' assistance – loaded everything onto it. Paying his fare and making his way to platforms nine and ten, Harry paused and looked around. He knew from _Hogwarts, A History_ that the entrance was right here, through the barrier between them. Firming his jaw, he was just about to make an attempt when a family of red-heads came barging through the throng.

There was a plump woman – who was obviously the matriarch of the family – leading the way; she was rather short (especially compared with her children) and wore a rather patched, faded dress which, Harry saw when he looked closely, was on backwards. Firmly attached to her hand was a young girl, who Harry thought might be a little young to be going to Hogwarts, but wasn't entirely sure; he was, after all, the poster-boy for the vertically challenged himself. She had the same flame-red hair as the rest of her family, and seemed to take after her mother in the shape of her face and brown eyes. There were four boys trailing behind her, all with trunks, and what looked to be the eldest and youngest boys each had an owl in a cage. They were all rather tall and thin, with the same hair, and clothes in various states of disrepair.

Harry wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying, but it seemed as though the mother was marching them through the barrier pretty quickly. Harry was rather reassured at this; and as soon as they had all passed through, hurried himself after them.

The platform on the other side was packed with people; there was a sign overhead advertising the _Hogwarts Express_ with the time it departed under it, as well as a sign over the archway behind him that said _Platform Nine and Three Quarters_. Sitting next to the platform, in all its glory, was a scarlet steam engine, ready and waiting for departure.

Harry quickly made his way over to the train and located an empty compartment at the back end of the train. He put Hedwig and Pasht inside, and then turned to his trunk. Harry looked around himself covertly; no-one was watching him, far more focused on the hustle and bustle of greeting old friends and saying tearful goodbyes to parents (well, most of the mothers were tearful, anyway) and the excitement of going away to a school to learn about magic or leaving home for the first time. Quickly waving his hand over his trunk, Harry floated it into the empty compartment he'd found and stowed it away. Hedwig and Pasht were settled in the overhead rack, and Harry closed the door and sat next to the window to watch everything going on outside.

He saw the red-headed family congregating not far away, although they seemed to be missing one…

There came a knock on the door, and it opened a fraction – just enough for a boy to poke his head through.

"Hi. Do you mind if I sit with you?" he asked. It was the missing boy from the family outside.

Harry smiled. "Sure, no problem," he answered.

The boy walked into the compartment, carrying an owl in a cage; but without any other luggage that Harry could see. He was tall, with flaming red hair that was obviously just starting to go dark; thin in the way that spoke of a high metabolism rather than starvation; with big hands and feet that predicted a large, muscular frame when he matured; a long-shaped nose that was covered in freckles; and shadowed blue eyes. He pulled out of his pocket a miniaturised trunk that was about the size of his palm.

"Shrinking charm," the boy explained, "came with it. Good value, I found." He finished as he resized his trunk and settled it next to Harry's; his own owl placed next to Harry's familiars.

"This is Michael Angelo," the red-head introduced. "And I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley…"

* * *

_1) Description of Hagrid from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone by J.K. Rowling, pages 39 and 40; Gringotts rhyme pages 56 and 57; Draco Malfoy pages 59 and 60. _

_2) This is how library shelves are labelled in Australia, I don't know if it's the same anywhere else. _

_3) "Chelsea Old Town Hall, King's Rd, London SW3 5EZ, United Kingdom". Address found for one of three public libraries in London on Google. I chose one outside of London City itself for its location and the pictures included which I imagined to be the kind of library Harry could hide out in without being caught._

_4) According to an on-line translator, this is Latin for "protector". I felt it fitting considering the role I have for these two characters to play…_

_5) Direct quote from Spiderman (the movie) by the Green Goblin!_

_A/N: Just a quick note - Harry's memory is extremely good in this story. He remembers Sirius and Remus the way a baby would, without much context, but with perfect recall. The reason he thinks Voldemort's attack is more a nightmare instead of a memory is because he was affected by the trauma of the event. This will be explored in more detail later in the story, especially in Harry's personal backstory._

_Also I am Australian, and have only visited England a few times. I apologise ahead of time for any mistakes made and beg your forgiveness. There is only so much one can find on google..._

_Thanks for your support and wonderful reviews!_


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